CrazyBeautiful
by OnlyBones
Summary: He risked it all, day by day. He took it all for granted... Draco Malfoy needn't be told he was wasting his life. He had everything, and he couldn’t seem to understand why he was miserable." AU DMGW
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Okay, so it's been, I don't know seven months since I've last put something up? Haha, so yeah, I've changed my mind about everything I said when I finished WTLTO. But this is AU, because I hate action and stuff like that, and I'm all for the pairings. So yeah, review, please!

Oh & title credit from the movie _Crazy/Beautiful_ with Kirsten Dunst, which I've been meaning to watch. I also have the plot based loosley around, since, like I just said, haven't seen the movie.

* * *

_Crazy/Beautiful_

Draco Malfoy wasn't the commoner. In fact, if you even considered him so, it'd be a crime against his dignity. He had everything, and no matter what he did or what he pined for, he managed to get what he wanted. Perhaps, deep down, beneath the layers of countless ruthless memories, he'd been waiting for it to happen all along. He'd been waiting to lose it all. 

Perfection and a high status could only get you so far. They could get you an important job, and they could get you women. Shouldn't it seem compulsory for it to also include a given happiness? The whole world could've been wrapped around his finger, if he truly pushed himself. If he cared anymore. 

Despite all he had, he risked it all, day by day. He took it all for granted, not caring, not bothering, and knowing he would escape retribution. Draco Malfoy needn't to be told he was wasting his life. He had everything, and he couldn't seem to understand why he was miserable. No, even all the drugs, alcohol and women couldn't take away his ache for something unknown. The meaningless words of approval from teachers and parents, the lustful looks from females all around him, they didn't mean a thing.

**-x-**

He watched lazily and apathetically as the party around him was in full motion. With a glass of fire whiskey in one hand, he slumped in the deep emerald chair that sat before the glowing fire. A pair of thin hands laced around his empty palm. Draco's head barely lifted to see who they belonged to. Pansy Parkinson tugged a bit on his arm, giving him a smirk that clearly stated where they were going, and why.

"I'm not in the mood, Pansy," he muttered, wrenching his hand from her bony fingers. 

She let out an exhausted sigh, and rolled her eyes. "Fine, get drunk first."

"Even if I was drunk, I wouldn't sleep with you."

Pansy sneered down at him as she began to turn away. And in a teasing, slightly slurring voice, she chuckled, "If I had a galleon for every time you've claimed that..."

They both knew she'd be a very wealthy woman if that was true. It wasn't that Pansy was his greatest desire, or his most lusted object; she was always ready for a quick one, and would never deny him. He felt nothing for her, a severe neutrality. 

Draco finished off the drink in his hand before rising. He expertly weaved his way through the crowd, and left the Slytherin common room. Just as the stone passageway closed behind him, the silence enveloped him rather than the deafening music that some sixth year had set up. He hunched his shoulders as he dug his hands deep into his pants pockets. His footsteps were the only noise that met his ears as he traveled up from the Slytherin dungeon. 

As he came near the great doors to the outside grounds, a group of Ravenclaw fifth years abruptly came around a corner, full of laughter and talk. Draco silently rolled his eyes towards their childishness, as he saw it to be. He carried on his way outdoors where the sun had almost vanished. The temperature had to be dropping even more, considering it was the raw month of January. 

He hid himself behind the enormous tree that was on the other side of the lake. His pale hands searched through pockets and pockets until he came upon his lighter and a cigarette. It was his worst habit of all to name, he thought. But with a few spells, all the evidence could be vanished. Draco flicked the end of the lighter till the flame came up to light the cigarette. He took a deep breath, smelling the stench, feeling his anxiety melt just a bit. 

Draco slanted his slim, muscular frame to balance on the wide trunk. A bitter wind whistled and cut its way through the air. Of the few regrets he would ever admit to, not bring a jacket on that very day was one of them. But as it calmed down, he could feel the heat of the cigarette in his hand once more. It was silent all around him, most students indoors, or had snuck into Hogsmeade on the harsh Friday night. He could hardly believe that his seventh year, his final year, could be this dreary. In fact, he could've blamed it on stupid Pothead if he wanted, really, finally killing Voldemort in the previous summer.

He couldn't help but to chuckle at his nickname for the _wondrous_ and _famous_ Harry Potter. Draco knew the boy was too innocent, too _scared_, to touch more than a glass or two of fire whiskey. Not only that, but he needn't be told that Potter was virgin, and he probably didn't do drugs. It was those reasons that the nickname "Pothead" brought an impious smirk to his face. Like many things, Draco would never admit he was jealous even in the most diminutive way possible of stupid Scarhead.

But in the back of his head, where the real human part of him resided, caged and ignored, he was envious. Harry Potter had nothing, and yet, people loved him. He was loved, and he knew how to love. Draco, on the other hand, pushed the cold-blooded memoirs of his childhood far away from himself. He couldn't be reminded of the little helpless boy and the insane, mangled look in his father's eyes. To date, it was the only thing that truly frightened Draco Malfoy. He closed his eyes, the cigarette now dangling from his mouth, and if he wanted to, he could've brought himself back to that memory. But he wouldn't, because a Malfoy didn't have fears or weaknesses. They learned from the few mistakes they were allowed, and immediately learned to never repeat it. 

The sun was gone now, leaving him to see his way through the shadows. He stamped out the nearly gone cigarette before straightening his posture and his shirt. Draco scowled as he looked up at the looming castle ahead. He slid his hands in his pockets again before heading down to the Slytherin common room, sure to take Pansy Parkinson up on what she had cheaply offered before.


	2. Chapter 2

**-x-x-**

Draco licked his top lip, subconsciously; he watched his fellow Slytherin and just about only friend, Blaise Zabini, hand over the small plastic bag. Draco inspected it before handing over two galleons. He had only just shoved it into his back pocket and checking to make sure it was obscure as a professor rounded the corner, nose shoved into a book, muttering to themselves.

Blaise snickered as Draco let out a quick breath of relief. "Don't get your knickers in a bunch, Draco."

"Fuck off," the blonde muttered back as he checked over his shoulder to make sure the professor was gone. "I've already got detention on Monday. And you're the one handing it out like candy."

"That's only because you and Pansy were _busy_ last night. And Nott was bitching for the money."

Draco rolled his eyes as they continued out to the school grounds, just as he had done alone the previous night. "All Nott cares about is pleasing his stupid girlfriend. He probably scammed us."

"Daphne is one of those goody-two shoes apparently. She won't do _anything_," Blaise mentioned as he patted down his pockets for cigarettes. "In my opinion, she might've done all right in Hufflepuff, where the boys are just as pansy."

"Doesn't she cheat on him?" But Draco knew the answer to that; oh yes, he _knew_.

Blaise nodded as they descended from the stairs to the freezing in the open air. "Blokes from every house."

"Even _Gryffindor_?" he scoffed in reply as they rounded a corner of the castle to another hidden area.

"Yeah," Blaise turned the box upside down and shook out two cigarettes, handing one to Draco. "Apparently with Seamus... Seamus something, I forget."

Draco just smirked as he lit his own cigarette, than his friend's. "Scumbag, the both of them."

"You're the one that slept with her."

"Among other activities."

Blaise blew out the lethal smoke from his lungs as the silence washed over them. Draco simply focused on breathing in and out, watching the smoke appear and then disintegrate. They stood in the artic weather, smoking and consumed by their own thoughts, in their concealed spot. The tree by the lake, which was Draco's territory, was, only known to him and no other. He used it as a place to get away from the people and the substances in his life. Blaise had finished his cigarette, just about to start up another, when he pulled the bag out of his jacket pocket along with a ripe green apple. Draco threw down his own, not bothering stamping it out, and pulled out his lighter again.

Draco Malfoy, the druggie, he thought to himself with a mental smirk. At first, he did it because he wanted to seem daring, but then, he did it because he liked it, and it made him temporarily stress-free. Draco Malfoy, the pothead, he laughed with the first puff, and let himself dissipate, just like the smoke right before his eyes.

**-x-**

He spread his arms wide; stretching as far as his limbs could reach. He leaned his head back, shutting his eyes tightly as he moved his hands to beneath his head. An agonizing headache had been enough to starve Draco off his appetite as he lay in his four-post bed, alone in his dormitory. Perhaps, he could use a smoke, or maybe it was because of the smoking, he thought. Or maybe he really just needed to have a clear head for once, to sober up. Draco practically laughed out loud at the thought of himself completely sober.

The notion still amused him as he pushed himself off the bed and put his shoes back. He headed out of the Slytherin common room, off to somewhere else that was vacant. His first thought was outside, but remembered he forgot his jacket once again, and deserted that idea. Draco wandered up near the Great Hall, the lingering scent of food and the thunderous sounds of utensils and goblets clatters and people talking. His feet directed him to the library, which he knew would be empty, even of that irritating, notorious Gryffindor bookworm.

As he came to the library, he realized he hadn't been there since the start of the year back in September. Needless to say, it hadn't been for looking up Charms homework. Draco surveyed his surroundings, empty as ever, striding through the aisles of books and around the desks and workspaces. He observed that this silence, the lack of people, was just what he needed. Even that infuriating librarian had vanished off to the meal. Quickly glancing at a clock on the wall, Draco assessed he had about forty minutes till people started to peel away from the Great Hall.

He moved farther back into the library, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before he even sat down. Draco found the dusty table in the most unexploited space of the library, one he had used for events other than studying. He laughed at himself, smoking a cigarette in the Hogwart's library of all places. The blonde-haired boy sat down in a creaky chair and lifted his feet up to the table. Why not get comfortable? This sense of supremacy and leisure would be good for a least a half hour.

Draco took another drag of the cigarette before he heard movement. He stopped, first assuming it was the librarian, but then realized, that it had to be a student, considering that he heard mumbling and the sounds of someone talking to themselves.

"Oh no... no, no," the voice wasn't Granger, as he then suspected. But who else could be in the library during a mealtime? Their footsteps grew closer, and so did their words. "God, this is ridiculous."

"Need something?" Draco called out, in spite of this person, whom ever disturbed his sanctuary. He leaned the chair against the old wall, taking a drag.

He could have laughed out loud as the girl came around the corner. Her auburn hair was tied into two braids, and, quite frankly, Draco thought she looked just as confused to finding someone in the library at that time as he felt. Then she noticed the cigarette and its stench, wrinkling her lightly freckled nose with this observation.

"Malfoy," she rolled her eyes. "Are you pathetic enough that to get your _need_ of insolence you smoke in the library? Even better, when you're all alone?"

Draco laughed at this. "But, Weasel, you've come to keep me company."

Ginny Weasley rolled her eyes and pulled her bag higher upon her shoulder. "I'm not dealing with your bullshit."

"Oh really? Most females find it to be sexually appealing."

But she had her back to him and was already walking away, unfazed by him. He raised an eyebrow at this, surprised at her tolerance of him. But then again, he contemplated, she must deal with those copious Weasley siblings. At that point, although unknown to him, Draco Malfoy had a new interest. But never, in all the eons of time, would he guess to what it would amount to.

**-x-x-**

**A/N: **Even though I wasn't going to update this considering I got a single review (thank you dragonsangel46!) & a lot of people putting this on their alerts and stuff, but whatever. So, for real, **read & review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**-x-x-**

He leaned his head back alongside the wall in the booth at Hogsmeade. Blaise took a sip of his fire whiskey before continuing his wild tale of his summer in Munich with his mother's new husband. Draco blocked out the noise, knowing the story and the fact that Blaise hated his mother's ways and her ever-changing latest husbands. The two Ravenclaws across from them laughed, commented and stayed silent at all the right parts. Draco took a taste of his fire whiskey as he straightened up, listening in for the tail end of the account.

"You know," Blaise said as the two girls went up to order another round. "You could be social. It wouldn't hurt your sex life."

"My sex life is ravishing, thank you."

His best friend let out a chuckle, either from too much alcohol or Draco's obstinacy. "It's amazing how you can be such an ass, and Mandy Brocklehurst still wants to fuck you."

Draco rolled his eyes as he leaned forward against the table, looking down into his glass. "What about Morag?"

Blaise faked gagging noises before swallowing his whole glass. "Why does it seem that all fairly good-looking girls have hideous names?"

"Don't get me started," Draco muttered back before forcing his first grin of the night as their dates returned with four more glasses of fire whiskey.

**-x-**

He awoke to the sounds of her getting dressed. He had become so used to it; he should've been immune to it. But Draco could hear her clasp her bra and the sounds of the fabric of her shirt slide over her skin. Her name was something with an "m". Molly, Mary? Could it be Melanie? Even after a few hours, the alcohol and early morning kept his brain slightly inebriated.

Then she was redoing the clasp of her high heels, only adding to the indignity of her plunging neckline and barely acceptable skirt. She let out a breath of satisfaction, he assumed, his eyes shut tight as he pretended to be slumbering. Draco felt her brush his white blonde hair away from his face, and heard her sigh out of... _aspiration? _He couldn't believe how pathetic some girls were. It was sex, for the gods' sake. It wasn't anything serious or committing. Well, to Draco, at the least. He felt her lips, wet and sticky with a new application of gloss, press against his forehead, a bit too solidly for him.

Then, to her best attempt, she tip-toed out of the dormitory, although her heels still clacked stridently against the wood floor. Draco wiped the remnants of her makeup off his forehead as soon as she let the door close behind her. He sat up straight, almost disgusted with himself, and rubbed his eyes with closed fists. While it hadn't been an awe-inspiring experience, he almost felt bad for not remembering the brainless girl's name. But Draco brushed the thought out of his skull as he reached over the edge of the bed for his boxer and a shirt. If he couldn't call it to mind, then it wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth the chase.

**-x-**

"Mister Malfoy."

It hadn't been a question, or a careful statement. It was said piercingly, impatiently and seeping of threats of detentions. Draco lifted his blonde head off of the pages of the book, and almost wondered if the ink would rub off on his skin. He mentally shook himself awake as Professor McGonagall leered down upon him, her eyes menacing and irritated.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Would you mind explaining to us one of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration's Principal Exceptions?" Her eyes narrowed, thinking she could catch him by surprise, possibly hoping he wouldn't have the answer.

"Of course," he suppressed the urge to sneer at his professor, although he let his arrogance show through his answer. "One of the five Principal Exceptions is that food can not be created out of nothing. It must have a source, no matter how small, and that source can be transfigured anywhere, and the quantity may be increased or changed."

The professor nodded in approval, almost letting a grin escape from her thin, solemn mouth. She didn't like the Malfoy boy, but no one could deny his natural intelligence. As she continued on about the theory, Blaise abruptly jabbed his friend from behind with his quill.

"Well, you showed that bothersome hag," he quietly chortled as Draco let his trademark smirk of accomplishment appear.

"Something you'd like to share, Mister Zabini?" Professor McGonagall snapped, becoming once more aggravated and narrowed her eyes at him.

"No, Professor, I –"

"I'm sure you'd love to tell me after class," she finished for him sharply, just before dismissing the rest.

"Fucking bitch," Blaise complained just as Draco hitched his bag higher. "I'll see you in the common room."

"If you get out alive," he snickered in return as he headed into the hall full of students.

The crowd was thunderous, and full of minuscule first years that Draco had to physically move out of the way as he pushed his way through. Some people, he thought to himself. Some people really need to get a grasp on reality and realize they're not alone in their surroundings. Finally, he broke free of the crowd, heading his way to the Slytherin common room. Draco found himself behind a group of Slytherin fifth years, all gossiping noisily.

"...and so then, the Weasley girl, she told him off, for making fun of Looney, and she was all defensive, and it was weird because, I mean, they're not even friends, and their not even in the same house, but I guess she felt like she needed to measure up to her pathetic brother and his friends. But anyway, I was in the middle of the room, and I was like wow, that Weasley girl has no dignity and Snape was trying to get them to shut up but he just kept on going and then Snape gave them both detentions."

The group laughed as another put in, "God, that girl is _so_ pathetic."

For some reason, Draco was absorbed by their unbelievably ignorant conversation as they came upon the passageway.

"Wait, so what's the password again?" one girl asked aloud as her friends shrugged. Draco gritted his teeth and shoved himself forward through the crowd of teenage girls. There was nothing worse than having to deal with ill-mannered people who happened to be fifteen year old females, all whom at one point had taken a fancy to Draco. Well, a Weasley could be worse.

**-x-x-**

**..**

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews for the last chapter! I hope to get the same support for the rest of this story, too. This chapter might also seem like a filler, but it has some importance. But anyway, read & review, pleasepleaseplease!


	4. Chapter 4

**-x-x-**

The professor sighed from the front of the room, turning a page in her book as the rows of students before her scrambled to copy down the assignment. Due to a last minute faculty meeting, all the detentions had been rearranged to be taken care of by one professor. Idiot McGonagall, Draco laughed to himself at the image of the headmistress. Just like Dumbledore, he had no reverence for her. What had she done to prove herself that no other could easily bring about?

He had laid his quill down a few minutes earlier. Copying words, phrases and sentences couldn't engrave a message into a person's head. Draco knew better, so he thought. His eyes wandered about the room, catching a glimpse of recognizable older students and the trembling first and second years. It wasn't to his benefit that his eyes caught the back of a redhead's, two rows ahead of him next to a Hufflepuff boy. The shade of red had to have been a universal warning, a Weasley sighting. She was hunched over the paper, as if putting everything she had into the useless scrap.

The girl meant nothing to him; all he knew was a name and hair color. Yet, Draco's gaze stayed onto her hair, so long, pin straight and neatly parted to the side. It _was_ an appealing color, he admitted sheepishly, but she _was_ a Weasley. Therefore, she had to be a downright sickening sight with all those freckles, gangly limbs and hand-me-downs. He hastily expunged the notion of the sole Weasel girl, and, regrettably, picked up his quill once more simply to pass the time.

It felt like perpetuity until the professor released them with a weary look. The group silently left the room, packing away quills and papers, until they reached the hallway. A sixth year Slytherin abruptly thrust his leg out in the way of the Weasley girl. She collapsed to the ground, every single one of her papers, quills and books spreading out upon the stone floor. The boy laughed at the sight and kept moving. Many others followed the suit, considering no one felt like dealing with another's problems so late into the night. Draco headed up the stairs, behind the rest of the pack. But then he saw one of her folders, overflowing with notes and work at the start of the steps. He heard the shuffling of her papers from where he stood, kneeling down to salvage the folder. Draco looked up the flight of steps, and back over his shoulder. They were the only beings in sight. He took a risk, like always, but in a way that was unusual to his customary.

Draco turned around, and silently walked over to the crumpled sight of Ginny Weasley. He never let his numb guard down as he stood above her. She raced to arrange her things, and slowly looked up with heartbreaking eyes gazing upon his callous ones. Draco stuck out the papers to her, in a way to make her feel even more despondent and pitiful. When she did not take it immediately, he flung it to her lap and whipped around. He swiftly made his way up the flight of stairs back to the Slytherin dungeon. As hard as he tried to ignore it, that look of her desolation hit his heart where nothing else could. Draco couldn't let that meaningless, nothing girl get to him, but he knew that sensation much too well to let it go by disregarded.

**-x-**

The smoke clouded his eyes, forcing them to tear up as he coughed from the drag. His cigarettes brought him liberation from his world, for the price of his health. But sometimes it was all he could do, to take his mind away from other things, things that really plagued him. Draco let his eyes wander up to the castle, where many students resided in the Great Hall for lunch.

The cigarette dangled from his fingers as he narrowed his eyes at the entrance. Despite all he said, despite all he desperately lied, Draco was not contented. He was bored of getting disgustingly smashed night after night. The feeling of a drunken girl, slurring her way into his bed, or him into hers, was quite pitiable. Nonetheless, the drugs didn't help much either; most likely, they made it only worse. He didn't feel like doing anything anymore. He didn't have the energy, or the motivation to do anything. Hadn't he experienced it all by now?

He was tired. He wanted to sleep rather than stay up, hours on end, waiting to hear the girl-of-the-night leave, or for the other boys to awaken. Draco needed a sleep that lasted for years and years and years. Why not sleep the rest of the world away? Then maybe he would become conscious, and fully awake, rather than traipse around, barely half-cognizant. And maybe he'd find something that didn't bore him, that never wore him out. Something that kept him content, never uninterested him and never crawled into his bed during the dead of night, deeply inebriated and horny.

He stamped the cigarette out beneath his shoe as he leaned against his tree. Draco tilted his head upward, furrowing his brow as he squinted at the grey sky that blew vicious winds at him. He tried to look past the dreary atmosphere, beyond the skies and the heavens. A sharp blast of air bit into his skin, ripping through his clothes and gnawed at his skin. Draco didn't want to be this person anymore. But at the same time, he wasn't wholly convinced in what he truly sought after to become.

**-x-x-**

**A/N: **I know this is short, sorry, but school is ridiculous. I have so much shit to do, but I'm going to try to stay constant with this. & pleasepleaseplease **read & review, **a lot! ;D


	5. Chapter 5

**-x-x-**

Ginny Weasley wasn't, in truth, innocent. She had her fair share of boys, none of which were too serious or too pure of relationships. But that was last year, when times were hard, and it didn't look like she would get to spend time with boys when she was older. Everyone expected – everyone _knew_ – she would join the Order and fight alongside her family and friends. She was a Weasley, a valiant Gryffindor. It was her duty to fight for the good guys, because when in war, there is always a good guy and a bad guy. You had to be brave to fight for justice, but you had to be even braver to fight for vice.

It was that that separated Ginny from the people she was surrounded by. She wasn't a Death Eater for God's sake, nor would she see any light into what they were doing, but she knew that it took a hell of a lot of guts to stand up to morals and about three times as many wizards. When it came to logically thinking, it was hard for her to define good and evil. The world was full of different shades of grey, not everything divided into black and white. Although men fought for Lord Voldemort, you had to put in the factor of fear for not only their lives, but their loved ones. Just because they fought for an iniquity didn't mean they were bad people, but sometimes they were.

The war was over, simple as that. It was a thing of the past. History books were being revised again, and Harry Potter's biography was being written, much to his dismay. People could rest easy these days, but it still didn't feel right. She didn't know it then, but she was growing older, growing apart from the people and things she'd known her whole life. Maybe it would take her away from the world, to a better place or maybe it would kill her. She didn't know. With all the information from textbooks and teachers, Ginny didn't know. But, as always, the answer was where she'd least expect it.

**-x-**

It was too damn cold. It was too damn fucking cold to be outside. And yet, Ginny Weasley sat on the steps of the Hogwarts, racing through her notes. She was studious Ginny this year. Last year, she was... a bit more promiscuous. And all previous years, she was, well, innocent Ginny. Sure, she'd grow up, learned a few lessons, and lost family members. She was normal, and maybe that was what was weighing her down in the pit of her stomach. She felt nauseous all the time these days, but she wasn't like _that_ anymore.

She had a test this afternoon, and she wasn't quite sure if she was ready. Last year, her grades had fallen to just mere points about failing and this year she struggled to keep them proficient. Teachers didn't take her seriously; boys still thought she was the same as last year. Nobody understood the change in Ginny Weasley. The previous year she would have just skipped the class if there were a test, skipped the class if they were doing anything vaguely that disinterested her. Basically, Ginny had missed almost sixty days last school year, barely (but surprisingly) passing her finals, and, then was grounded for the entire summer.

Ginny closed her eyes and rested her head against the cold, hard stone wall. She'd come so close; she was so lucky to not have failed, but also lucky to have sat by one of the smartest students in her year for those finals. If she had a choice, she would've skipped those final exams, too.

The noise of students pushing their way out of the Great Hall met her ears, so she pushed herself up and assembled her books and notes. Ginny let out a sigh before a biting gust of air lashed at her. She shivered violently as she hitched her bag higher up on her shoulder and followed the sounds. It was easy to slip into the crowd, looking like you belong. Ginny skimmed over her notes as she waited outside her classroom. She had to pass this one, prove herself again and again that she was a serious student. But the teacher called her inside, and her time was up. Ginny knew she wouldn't be able to prove herself with one grade. But she tried.

**-x-**

Her stomach grumbled and ached, but her mind said no. What did Ginny say? She didn't say anything. She was skipping dinner again, wondering why when she actually tried to turn her life around and put herself back on track, things turned out three times worse and twenty times harder. Ginny didn't want to have to strain to be someone she wasn't. She wasn't a studious girl and she wasn't a promiscuous girl, but she wasn't an innocent naïve girl, either. So who was Ginny Weasley, besides a redheaded Weasley, the only Weasley girl, a boyfriend stealer, a dumb girl? It felt like someone had dropped a heavy bag of textbooks onto her stomach every time she thought of these things.

She lay on her back, her arms stretched out and behind her head. Ginny was tired; she was tired of pushing herself to the breaking point. But she couldn't relapse. She couldn't go back to skipping classes and meals and going off with boys into the woods or empty classrooms instead. She was over that stuff, Ginny was done. She was growing up, and she didn't even realize it.

Ginny pulled her hands out from underneath her head. She stuck them in front of her face, examining the palms and the backs of her hands, as if they had the answers and remedies she sought after. But instead all she saw was a pair of pale hands and a scar on her finger. Maybe life wasn't as complex as she kept thinking it was. Maybe it was simple, but over thought. She sighed and let her arms fall to her sides again. Although fully dressed, she pulled the covers over her frame and curled her knees into her chest. Her eyelids felt heavy and her concentration drifted. She was so tired she felt like sleeping for a year, a decade, for forever. She could sleep and wake up and feel like no time passed. She could wake up in a different time, and maybe a different place. But she'd still be the same confused Ginny Wealsey.

**-x-**

**Author's Note: **Wow, I'm sorry this took forever. Writer's block is a bitch, and recently there have been a couple tragedies about people I've known. It sucks, but school's almost over & I think I've got my stride back, so **READ & REVIEW** or else I may just go cry or stop writing because I like to know what people THINK. Okay, bye. **REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW!**


	6. Chapter 6

**-x-x-**

Her books were heavier than her heart today. They sagged and weighed her down as she trudged from the library to the common room. It was late Friday evening, leaving most of the castle empty and calm. For God's sake, even _Hermione_ had snuck out of the building with Ron and Harry. Her life had not only become lackluster, it had become pitiable.

"Ginny Weasley," a voice came from behind her, sounding slightly perplexed. She turned around to face Anthony Goldstein, his arm slung around Padma Patil. Behind him stood Padma's twin, Parvati, and a few other students. "I think the last time I've seen you with a stack of books you were in second year."

She forced a polite smile although she furious, infuriated, in fact. Her brown eyes tingled as she watched the group of friends laugh before she thought of a meager excuse. "I kind of have to –"

"Come out with us," Padma called out, sounding like she'd already had a few drinks. "You never go out anymore! Don't you know how to have fun anymore?"

Padma let out a sick giggle as the others joined in, but Ginny bit the inside of her mouth, feeling the meal she'd forced herself to eat rising back up. She knew it was careless and lightheartedly, but for some reason it hurt her. Maybe because she'd been friends with the group a year before and now she wasn't; there wasn't a big blowout or anything of the sort. Ginny Weasley had simply fallen off the radar, slipped under the covers for an entire summer, avoiding letters and invitations from all her friends for no apparent reason.

"C'mon," Kevin Entwhistle urged her. "Just a few shots of fire whiskey; it won't hurt anyone."

"I'll have to pass," Ginny said evenly as she took a step back from the group. "I'm feeling a bit ill."

Anthony shrugged, "See you around then."

"Next week!" shrieked Padma. "It's just not the same without you!"

Parvati shook her head and gave her sister a playful shove. "We're still in the castle and you're almost drunk."

Ginny turned her back as the students continued down the hallway, listening to their laughter and their shouts. She had once been the center of that, she'd once been the girl draped from Anthony's arm, from Kevin's arm, from many a boys' arm. But she had let that go, moved on, perhaps. Ginny resumed her trek back up to the Gryffindor tower. She could feel bile moving up her throat. It was almost involuntarily these days, she couldn't keep anything down.

She nearly dropped her stack of books and bag as she raced to the girl's washroom around the corner. Her tiny hand flew to her mouth as the vomit climbed higher. Ginny threw the door open and fell to her knees as she heaved into the toilet. Last year, it had hurt. It felt like someone had stuck their smoldering cigarette to the back of her throat. But by now, she was used to the pain. When she had finished, she let her head fall to the side of the stall, closing her eyes. Although she hated to admit it, every time she vomited, she felt a bit of adrenaline. It was her secret, her disgusting, deep, awful secret that would make others shudder and outraged.

Ginny pushed herself up to her feet, her hands trembling as she stuck them beneath the icy water. She didn't let herself look into the mirror right before her eyes as she headed right for the door in some hurry. Ginny pushed the door open, and stepped out, taking a deep breath of air as she turned to continue her way to the common room. But she was obstructed by a pair of steely eyes that glared right through her bright, brown ones.

"Weasel, was that you I heard gagging?" he smirked. Malfoy had set himself up across the hall, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed over his slim chest.

"Is this what you do on Friday nights?" Ginny retorted. "Stand outside the girl's washroom so you can pounce on the sluttiest thing that walks out of it?"

Malfoy's smirk grew, and Ginny felt like something had punched her in the heart. She'd set herself up.

"Yes, Weasel. I enjoy preying on little firsties and dirty girls, like yourself." He laughed, and the noise bounced back and forth around the stone arched hallway, repeating its sound over and over again in Ginny's brain.

"You're sick."

"I'm not the one vomiting in the washroom, now am I?" His grey eyes sparked with something that wasn't just malicious, but also some sort of jest.

Ginny felt herself go numb. Something about Malfoy made her feel sad. She felt sorry for him, because of what other's just assumed. They all said Malfoy was an asshole who simply liked torturing others, and his parents spoiled him rotten. He was a Malfoy; he was just like the rest of them. But Ginny didn't believe that, she realized, he had to have had a story. He wasn't simply born to torment people and be a Death Eater.

She turned to continue her walk up to the Gryffindor tower yet again. "Please, Malfoy, just because you're so – so _miserable _with your awful life doesn't mean –"

"Excuse me?" he snarled, pushing himself upright. Malfoy had taken two steps, but he stood less than a foot away from Ginny now. "I'm _miserable_? Weasley, shut the fuck up. You're a fucking whore! You just fuck people because you think it'll make people _like_ you."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, but her gaze remained irate. "I am not a whore and I... I'm not like that."

"Anymore," Malfoy hissed his six-one frame towering over her petite one. "Everyone except your stupid fucked up brother, his Mudblood girlfriend and you're failed lover Pothead knows it. No one has the fucking _heart_ to tell them that you're that pathetic."

Without even another thought crossing her mind, Ginny punched him squarely in the jaw. She didn't pity him anymore. From twenty feet away, someone would be able to tell it was jarring in a way that rattled your brain. And that's precisely what it did to Malfoy. His hand flew up to when she had hit him, his stormy eyes wide, but all anger was erased from them. They were blank, like cold, flat stones. Ginny's mouth opened in shock as she raised her hand to her mouth.

"Malfoy – oh, shit... I –"

"Shut up," he said quietly staring at her with confusion. Malfoy stared at her with that blank stare as she nervously returned it. He was in amazement, he had done it. He'd cracked Ginny Weasley, and he didn't know why but what he desperately wanted to do was to fuck her right there and then.

Malfoy's hand fell to his side as he continued to stare at Ginny in awe. "I needed that."

"Yeah," she said weakly and apprehensively. "You're kind of a fucking asshole."

"I know," he replied coldly. "But you're a fucking Weasley."

He turned on his heel before striding quickly away from the sight, resisting that urge that plagued him from deep inside his stomach. Malfoy wanted to kiss her, he wanted to touch her. He'd never felt this way so strongly when sober. It made him sick enough that when he got back to his common room, he bought plenty of pain killers from Blaise.

**-x-**

He liked a girl that stood up to him. He liked a girl that could stand up for herself, but still needed a savior. He never realized how alike they were; considering they were so different and distant, it wasn't necessary to compare them. Draco ran his long fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. He knew he was like his father, pushing everything to its limit. But Draco was different; he pushed near the limits, waiting for someone to push back. His father had no limits, no boundaries.

Draco knew she wasn't a whore anymore. He remembered some of the stories he'd heard last year. She'd sneak out every night, get wasted, come to the castle before breakfast. She was one of the girls that every girl claimed to hate but desperately wanted to be. _Ginny Weasley_... he thought. She had pretty eyes, he remembered. And she was small, very small.

What was that odd feeling in his chest? Fascination, craving for this stupid girl? She was a Weasley, a meaningless piece of trash, only a step up from a Muggle or a Mudblood. Every other girl that listened to his rude slander just joked in return, only a few had slapped him. And those girls ended up coming back to him in the end.

He fumbled with his pack of cigarettes, and quickly lighted one before stuffing the lighter and pack beneath his mattress. The curtains were secured tight around his bed along with a few charms. He didn't need them, though; all the other boys were out. Draco puffed at the toxic fumes. He really needed to get high. He needed something, weed, coke, anything would do.

His cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth, Draco pushed the back of his head into his pillow, clenching his jaw to feel where that insignificant Weasley tramp had hit him. He closed his eyes, remembering how she looked at him. She always looked at him like he was trash, dirt. But when her fist fell away, he saw something else. She regretted it, she was sorry. A Weasley felt sorry for punching a Malfoy after calling her a slut. Nice to know she had a conscious, he thought in bitter humor.

That memory of her face stayed in his mind. She was decent, pretty maybe, he admitted. _Ah, fuck it, she's attractive_, he nearly shouted in his mind. Draco rubbed his eyes before taking a drag and letting out a dense cloud of smoke. He felt sick to his stomach, wondering what she would say – what _anyone_ would say – if they knew. If they knew Draco Malfoy thought Ginny Weasley was _vaguely_ attractive. It wasn't like she was jaw-dropping strikingly gorgeous.

Who the hell was he kidding? In his own mind, no one would judge him, but he still held back on saying what he felt. He thought she was beautiful. And oh, God was she beautiful.

**-x-x-**

**Author's Note: **So, yeah, finally some interaction. I hope I didn't move to fast or it didn't seem to OOC. Pleasepleasepleaseplease **read & reviewreviewreview! **It'll mean quicker updates. :


	7. Chapter 7

**-x-x-**

As low and needless as it was, Ginny felt like she should've apologized. She didn't know why, but she felt regretful for punching Malfoy. But if she ever approached him again, she knew he'd probably return the favor, ignoring all chivalry that he was sure to have been taught considering his family was so habitual. Ginny would have slapped herself if she could to obliterate her thoughts of Malfoy. He was an awful person, she knew, but there had to be a reason. And the fact that he _almost_ admitted it made her sure that she had his whole manner figured out. But maybe that wasn't just it.

Secretly, like all of the other girls in the school, she found Draco Malfoy handsome. All right, in all honestly, she thought he was bloody gorgeous. Sometimes Ginny was glad she never encountered Malfoy while absolutely smashed in the previous year. She probably would have straight up told him that she thought he was attractive, and he would have hexed her into oblivion for even coming near him. Which struck another question into her racing head, why didn't he just walk away?

Malfoy was above taunting her, Ginny knew, past her second year. It would've made sense if he simply sneered and strutted away. But he stayed, and he opened his mouth, releasing insults like flies that attacked and swarmed her. He didn't know about her... her problem; well, the problem she used to have. No one knew. It was just a stupid thing last year, stupid thing that she'd moved on from, for the most part anyway.

The essay in front of her stayed half-written. She would have to finish it in the morning, she sighed. Ginny packed up her books and papers as she headed up to her dormitory where all the other girls were just falling asleep after sneaking back into the castle. She remembered how exhilarating it felt to always pass by undetected, even when you reeked so badly of smoke and alcohol it could make someone faint. Ginny pulled the curtains around her bed tightly as she threw her covers over her, fully dressed. She had taken a habit to simply throwing herself into bed without changing because she no longer had the energy to do so. No one would notice anyway, no one paid that close attention. Especially not to a has-been party girl who used to gladly and proudly steal your beau.

She let out a deep breath before rolling onto her stomach. Things were much easier when you couldn't remember them, and when you simply didn't care what others thought of you. Ginny dug her face into her pillow, remembering all the boys that she'd carried back with her to her bed. She remembered how she'd go out with Lavender Brown or the Parvati twins mostly, and now and then with a group her own age. Sometimes the image of her former self frightened her. She looked much older than fifteen, and never stopped to rethink an outfit with a plunging neckline or stilettos that might just break her neck. It was strange that her shameful previous nature was more confident than her new humble one. Back then, Ginny didn't care what the other students thought.

She was younger, even if only by a year, and so much more naïve. Ginny blushed at the photos of herself from the previous year, herself laughing and throwing her hair back with her arm thrown across a different boy. You could always see her little hand wrapped around a half-empty glass of some sort of alcohol. If you didn't know her, you'd say she looked happy, but she was really just unbelievably smashed out of her mind.

**-x-**

The current of air snaked through the atmosphere, winding around her neck, as she hunched her shoulders at the feeling. She leaned against the trunk of the tree, her book resting on her knees as the rest of the school ate their supper. Her bag was thrown up next to her body against the tree, while the air around her continued to blow about. Her mind couldn't concentrate on the words before her eyes despite the lack of interruption. Ginny leaned her back against the hard bark of the tree, looking up at its labyrinth of bare, dead branches reaching out with their hands to grasp the grey, dirty sky.

She shut her eyes tight, inhaling deeply before opening them again, and turning back to her reading. But the words couldn't seize her interest, leaving her mind empty and hollow. Ginny yielded to her daze and inability to focus, throwing the book back into her bag as she pushed herself up to stand. She let out a breath, gazing back at the castle from behind the tree on the other side of the lake. The lights in the Great Hall were still vivid, and she knew the others wouldn't be back from the meal for some time. Ginny turned around to begin her journey back to her dormitory, but her eyes caught another sight.

His tall figure slouched over, a cigarette dangling from his left hand, and he was only a few feet away. A plume of smoke trailed from his mouth, spiraling up to the sky and vanishing. His silver eyes were numb, but she knew he was staring at her, and he must have been for a minute or two.

"Weasel," he began, as if pondering his pet name for her.

"Malfoy," she returned apprehensively, hitching her bag up her shoulder as she waiting with her heart racing and pounding in her chest so felt as though she needed to sit down.

"You don't know how much I want to return the favor," Malfoy smirked as he brought his cigarette to his lips. "But I'm sober at the moment, so I'll have to pass."

Ginny stayed still as she watched him exhale the whirlwind of toxic smoke. He still looked gorgeous, she admitted to herself, even if he looked like he rolled out of bed after a full day of sleep. It was true, the bags underneath his eyes were dark and his figure was more hunched over than usually. She wasn't sure if she wanted to say it, but she knew her conscious would remain feeling culpable for a year if she didn't. "I'm sorry."

Even Ginny could see Malfoy almost lose his cigarette, a flicker across his face of amazement and a mixture of something else. But it was gone, just as fast as it had come about, and Malfoy remained still, his cigarette dangling from his fingers again. Ginny waited, she wondered if he would say anything, or if she should just walk away.

"Well, I guess I'm sorry, too."

The words felt like he _had_ punched her in return. She felt like screaming in her head, feeling her jaw drop mentally. Malfoy didn't look sorry, but then again there was no emotion splayed across his face. Ginny didn't know if he was genuine, or if he was setting her up to give another a spiteful remark. She stared at him, knowing her stunned feelings were thrown across her face.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It's not that big of a fuckin' deal, Weasel. You don't think I have feelings too? I'm just a big fucking void of impassive shit, right?"

"No," she replied quickly and alarmed. "I don't, I just – why are _you_ apologizing?"

_Because you're more beautiful than any of the girls I've had_, his head bellowed, but his mouth replied, "Because as much as an ass as I am..." He stopped, losing sight of whether he wanted to tell the truth or not. "I have no real reason."

He felt like punching himself. Malfoy telling even just the partial truth, worst of all, to a Weasley. To make the horrible matters even worse, it was to Ginny Weasley, whom he found exceedingly attractive. But it wasn't like he was spitting that all up to her, thank God. Malfoy felt his heart throb as a smile materialized on to her face, her russet colored eyes turning up at the corners. Draco raised his cigarette to his lips and then let the plume escape his mouth as he watched her.

"Don't worry," Ginny guaranteed with a smile. "It's not like I'm going to go around telling people."

She turned to head back to the castle, but Draco couldn't let her leave like that. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; it was really that he couldn't stand to let her go even if he barely knew her and that he would see her again. His body acted without the consent from his mind as his long fingers wrapped around her thin wrist. Ginny jumped in surprise and whipped around to face him. Her eyes were spacious and giant with many emotions mixed together, fear, anxiety and things he couldn't place. But he could see her examine his face, and he knew that there was a chance she was besotted as well with him.

Ginny didn't pull away, she wouldn't let herself. Even the smallest touch from him made her skin explode with excitement and lust. She couldn't control it, and the feeling was one she'd felt in lesser forms in the previous year. It was indeed lust, a usually dirty feeling, but this time was exhilarating and electrifying.

"Tell me one thing," he whispered even though they were the only two beings on the grounds. "Do you fancy me, Weasley?"

She didn't feel like answering; she felt like kissing his beautiful lips right then, but she didn't, for once, she had authority. Instead, she replied with an audacious answer, "Do you fancy me, Malfoy?"

"I asked first," he said with a half smile, his long, pale fingers still loosely wrapped around her wrist.

Ginny knew she had two options. She could tell him the truth and then proceed to get laughed at, or, she could say no, punch him again and then sprint into the hidings of her dormitory. She'd much rather take a swing at him again. _Another way to touch him_, she thought. Ginny pulled up a smirk as well, and said intrepidly but falsely, "No."

She was about to take part in the rest of her plan when he spoke. "You know Weasley, I have a gift. And it happens to be I always know when people are lying."

She felt shattered and exposed. Her heart was sinking and her dignity washed away. Even Ginny could feel Malfoy see her reaction, her downfall.

"You _do_ fancy me," he laughed, and Ginny turned her face away as she pulled her minute hand out of his slack grasp. Her body went numb, just like when she found out her brother had died. His laughter was cold, but at the same time, she couldn't help but to think it was forced.

Her eyes filled with salty tears as she glared at him. She was downright humiliated, even if it was only him and her. Ginny felt foolish for even staying around the slime ball. She breathed heavily through her nose as her eyes fought back the tears.

"Why don't you just admit it?" Malfoy sneered. "Then you'll seem like less of a liar."

Ginny pursed her lips tightly before turning around swiftly to stomp off in a mortified hurry away from him. She had barely taken a few steps before he grabbed her again. But this time it was a tight grasp, and he pushed her up against the tree, tightening her slight frame near his. He narrowed his eyes as he watched, tears beginning to fall from her face and her eyes.

"Just say it, Weasley," he nearly pleaded with not even half as much anger in his voice as his actions.

"I... I fancy you," she spat out before attempting to pull herself away from him. He didn't seem like he was putting that much exertion into holding her back, but his hold of her against the tree was firm.

Malfoy's silver eyes narrowed slightly, but more so in curiosity as he stared at the Weasley girl, who had simply given up as tears slid down her face; it was almost as if he was a predator, examining his prey, she thought. But she didn't know what he was thinking, and he wouldn't be able to tell her either.

"Wouldn't you like me to answer your question, Weasley?" His voice was softer, gentler as he spoke. The redheaded girl looked upon his grey orbs, letting her brown ones be overcome by tears. "Because, unfortunately so, I'd have to say I fancy you as well."

Malfoy didn't know why he was telling her this, or why he even considered talking to her the other day. He had stopped thinking about what he should do, and finally just acted. So he did just that, leaning down as he pressed his lips against her own, a kiss that she returned.

It felt like the only thing warm in the entire winter spell to her. His tongue caressed with her own, making her feel lightheaded and numb to the bitter air. It was better than any of her experiences, any of her _dreams_ with any boy. Ginny was in awe of the very event that happening as _Draco Malfoy_ kissed her behind the tree on the other side of the lake. It was only a kiss, she thought. It was only a kiss at the time. She didn't know if it would lead to any thing, she didn't know if he was lying or if he was tricking her. She just hoped he'd never stop.

But the lack of oxygen in their tiny lungs caught up to them, as he slowly, and even regrettably, detached his lips from her own. Malfoy dropped his arms to his sides as he realized they were tangled in her hair, his profound actions stunning them both.

"You do realize," he began in a voice that she had never heard from him. It was soft, but still firm, and it wasn't searing with disdain or impious wit, "I probably would loose my entire inheritance because of that."

Ginny could help but to let a sly smile creep up on her face as she diverted her eyes to the ground. She hunched up her shoulders and dug her little hands into her pockets. "It's not like I'm going to tell anyone. And I do trust you're not going to either."

She got the feeling that his silence was the end, the end of her fantasy and the end of the occurrence. Ginny reached down and picked up her fallen bag, heavy with books and work. She looked up at him before giving him a smile, as she desperately hoped she didn't sense her gloom that it was all over. The redhead turned to leave, believing in her doubts.

"Weasley," Malfoy called out as she had only taken a few steps. His voice was filled with incomprehension. "You don't actually think I was mocking you when I said I fancied you?"

Ginny whipped around, her eyes as wide open as her mouth. Words couldn't capture her incredulity as her heart hammered harder and harder in her thin chest. He took a step to be closer to you. She'd never seen him smile with sincerity, only in smug smirks and sneers. It felt like someone had punched her in the chest, which was how hard her heart beat. She wondered if he could hear it, too.

"A Malfoy keeps his word," he whispered before he took her minute hand in his large one. Draco made sure to make unyielding eye contact with her as he spoke. "I meant it. And I hope you did, too."

She was lightheaded again, like it was too hot during the summer or she had skipped too many meals in a row again. Ginny tightened her hand around his as she looked up at him, a childish smile unintentionally on her pretty face. "I did."

"I hope you know then, that I'm not going to tell anyone about this, and neither will you," he said quickly, changing his tone to a more serious and grave one. But she didn't care, just nodding in return, because, after all, she wasn't _that_ dim. She knew not to tell anyone, that mean _absolutely no one_, because that would even endanger her for getting a harsh slap and a lifetime supply of dirty looks from her siblings.

Draco dropped his grasp from Ginny's pale hand and quickly shoved it back into his pocket. He didn't even know his silvery eyes showed just the smallest amount of yearning, and that Ginny caught on. She gave a sly smile as she began to turn to leave.

"I'll see you around, I guess," he called out to her, almost in a desperate attempt to make her stay. Mentally, Draco cringed at the sound of his frantic covet for her, but he couldn't help himself.

Ginny flipped her long, smooth red hair over her shoulder as she turned her head around to face him. She tried her best to regain some of that old indestructible confidence she had with boys. With an attempt at a mysterious tone, she answered, "I guess."

She turned back around, trying to keep her pace steady as she dug her fingernails into her skin as she mentally screamed in her brain. Ginny's head felt like exploding because she was elated. All she had to do was not look back and to keep a steady back, she thought to herself. She had to trick him into thinking she was secure and that she was in power, even if she really wasn't. Maybe the old Ginny Weasley never died at all; maybe she was just practicing for a real boy with real potential. Or maybe she just really wanted to get Draco Malfoy to think she was mysterious and fascinating, and just gave it a hell of a shot.

**-x-x-**

**Author's Note: **Wow, I'm sorry that took forever. So basically I tried to make this chapter long, & it turned out I couldn't really stop it randomly so it because too long. I just hope it doesn't suck. :( So please **REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW_, _or else! :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**-x-x-**

His throat felt too tight to speak even for days after. His eyes were bloodshot as he stayed up at night just contemplating the situation. She was so beautiful, and in a loosened sort of concept, she was almost his. He'd never felt smitten before, and it was a feeling that mostly just involved adoration and desire to be with her. Sure, there was lust, but something about her made him want to walk away from his friends and the countless women. He wanted to be with her because he knew he'd be happy.

Although his stomach was empty, he felt no hunger. He found himself laying on his dormitory bed with his hands folded behind his head as he stared up at the canopy above his four-post bed when he should be at meals. The following day after he had kissed her, he saw her in the hallway and nearly lost himself. But Draco Malfoy had to keep composed, because, not only was he a _Malfoy_, he wasn't quite sure what he was getting into.

He didn't understand his own feelings, or his actions. He couldn't comprehend why he decided to take a risk that didn't involve a drug or sleeping with one of his close friend's girlfriend. Nonetheless, that didn't mean he had pulled away from the drugs or the alcohol. Speaking of the matter, recently Blaise had bought off a load of cocaine from a former student who was in Hogsmeade. Even the stunning young woman who plagued his thoughts and consumed his dreams could not tear him away from the substances that he had always relied on.

But he just couldn't figure out why he felt so nauseated and lovesick at the same time when he thought of his kiss and moments with Ginny Weasley. He risked his future, his money, his home, his very name, for her. Honestly, he would never put anything above his wealth without regret. It was strange ailment, and managed to get him out of classes for a full day. So he lay in his bed, wondering about the beauty and reflecting over the every aspect of his life at its current state. It sent shivers down his spine when he recalled the feeling of her tiny hands pushing her nails into his back, and her warm mouth, letting him enter and he knew that there was something more to that kiss. He just didn't want to admit it.

Draco rolled onto his side, pulling his knees up into his muscular chest. When he was little, he lay in that form in his bed. He would wait and wait for his mother to come up, and then she'd use magic to clear up whatever bruise had been laid on his pale skin. But it wasn't as though she promised it'd be okay or that it wouldn't happen again. He was always black and blue, until nothing hurt anymore. When he was little, he'd shriek and cry so much that his father would just get angrier. So he learned to keep quiet, take a hit and suck it up. But even that had earned him a scar on his hip bone from when he was thirteen. His father threw a family antique vase at him, narrowly hitting him on the left side of his hip. He never knew why his father was angry, but for some reason it had the opposite effect on Draco. He found himself numb to most situations, but he didn't blame his father. Considering his father knew Occulmency, he knew better than to think so.

He curled his long fingers into a fist before letting them sprawl out again. Then he rolled onto his back. His illness wasn't physical, and he knew it. Every bone ached and his head throbbed. It wasn't a painful sensation, more of once that just persisted and never left. He knew exactly why he felt so sick. The Weasley's were his family's most hated clan; they were Mudblood-loving, poor, hand-me-down-wearing, freckled, redheaded disgraces to all of the Wizarding society. And the fact was that he had kissed the youngest Weasley girl, and he risked his future. His mansion, his wealth, his status could have vanished in a nanosecond. It made him sick that he didn't regret a thing.

**-x-**

They met at mealtimes. They sat at the same tree, and all they did was talk. Ginny would talk about her family, and Draco simply listened. She talked for the two of them mostly, but he didn't mind. She had a serene type of a voice, a bit high pitched but always calm. He often caught himself staring at her and examining every bit of her he could see; at night, he imagined the rest.

She would lean her head and back against the base of the tree while Draco would either sit next to her or directly across from her. He listened with every effort to almost decipher her being. She simply went on, talking softly but with enthusiasm. When she talked of the family he hated so much, he lamented ever judging them. They'd had their hard times from a series of unfortunate events that couldn't be controlled in their state. He silently prayed, despite his lack of spiritual interest and his often declaration against it all, that she never asked him about his own family.

It was now towards the end of January. Ginny had her tiny hand gloved in red resting on top of his larger bare one. Her tiny fingertips tickled the top of his hand. She had her head tilted up at the branches and dreary sky. He stared at her profile, the light freckles that dusted across her nose, her high cheekbones, everything he could consume with his eyes. She made him feel warm even when the weather was particularly ruthless. He never wanted to leave her. Sometimes he was scared to even kiss her in fear she would push him away. But she never would.

He'd kiss her in the midst of her talking, not being able to control his temptation of watching her pale full lips moving and form words for him to hear. And she'd giggle against his mouth before granting him access of her own mouth. He'd move his tongue all around her mouth, exploring as much as he could. She couldn't help but to feel naïve around him, as he made her feel much better than any boy had ever done – could have ever done! She was in awe him, in awe of her sheer luck to have him.

She looked over at him, meeting his silvery eyes. Her lips curled into a smile as he stared back with a blank expression. She moved her tiny hand to his face, brushing loose strands of hair away from his thoughtful eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him quietly, dropping her hand back to her side.

Draco let a small smirk show, but didn't answer. It wasn't like he was about to open up like some sort of lovesick, lonely, pathetic, hopeless romantic. But he could simply pretend he was one. Ginny let out a soft laugh as she moved her petite frame closer to his. She reached for his hand, but instead he leaned into her, kissing her gently at first. Draco had to almost lean over her because of their height difference as she parted her lips for him. He never had a preference really, except for good looks, but he was drawn towards her skinny little figure. His hand caressed her cheek as the other wrapped around her face. She encircled her own arms around his neck, pushing her tongue deeper into his mouth.

Honestly, she was a bit worried. What if it didn't work out? What if someone discovered them? She'd fallen for boys before, always managing to catch them in the end, even if she wasn't interested anymore. But none of those feelings were as strong as this, except for one, which was close. Ginny had always been a hopeless romantic, falling for boys that wanted sex, and, even if she wanted it too, she desired a little compassion or a passionate gesture. Draco was never the boy of her dreams; he didn't even fit her preference! Sometimes he confused her with his softness and kindness. It made her insides burn with desire.

She pulled her lips away from his just as his hands were tangled in her long, red hair. He stared into her light brown eyes, they were almost hazel. Ginny blushed sheepishly before staring down at her lap. Draco grasped her gloved hands in his as she looked back up at him.

"You seem embarrassed," he said bluntly, yet gently.

"It's just that..." But she really didn't know why. Maybe she was discomfited that she was falling for him, hard and fast, and she didn't know how it would end up.

Draco eased the sternness of his grey eyed stare as his lips turned up in a small smile. "I really like you, Weasley."

"So much that you can't call me by my first name?" she giggled as he pulled her into his chest.

He put his mouth next to her ear and whispered, "I really like you, _Ginny_."

Her heart skipped at the sound of her name, and the feeling of his warm breath softly blowing on her ear. "I like you too."

They sat together, waiting out for the silence to end. They'd only been together for two weeks, but they felt like they knew each other as if they had all their lives. She let her head fall against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Neither understood the chemistry between them, but the air seemed warmer and each day was less and less lackluster. It made Draco was to scream with pleasure and excitement every time she touched him, even if they'd only kissed so far. He couldn't bring himself to put her in an uncomfortable situation, even if he was dying to touch her and ravish her.

He closed his eyes, feeling her small figure rise and fall with her breathing upon his chest. Draco was never a dreamer; he'd always been logical and level in a sense. He'd never made up fantasies for his dreary life. He never questioned his parents, taking in their own values and traditions as his own. It was odd that he found himself with Ginny Weasley. He didn't know whether he truly liked her, or if he was trying out a new way to be rebellious. He didn't know if he really wanted to admit the truth.

**-x-**

Blaise was passed out, leaning against the wall of an abandoned bathroom. Draco snorted the line of white substance and sat down next to his best friend. Cocaine had always been his favorite; it was simple, and not hard to get a hold of. It was his thirteenth birthday when he first tried it. He felt invincible, like he could do anything. Instead of taking more hits, he lost his virginity with Pansy Parkinson in one of his parents' guest rooms.

But the high was never as good or as long lasting as that one night. It was a few months before he took another hit of it, and from then on, he never said no to an offer. He wasn't addicted because, after all, that couldn't happen to him. The only side effect for him was his lack of hunger and his ability to sleep. It wasn't like he truly needed either he convinced himself.

From personal experience, Draco knew that when he was high he tended to think more and would try to analyze his life even if he could barely walk. Ginny's face came to his mind, and for a second, he wondered. Did she know? Did she realize he was this fucked up? That he enjoyed fucking up his internal organs and letting his appearance draw people into thinking he was cool and collected? He'd always liked to play tricks on people when he was young. He'd lie to people, watch their demise, and then innocently play it out. But he was a man now, just about, and he continued to do so. Draco had often lied about being clean to get with girls who would only sleep with him if he was. He'd watch them rise for his defense with a smirk, and shrug his shoulders and walk away. The absence of regret was the only thing that made him continue to lie and deceive others.

He didn't want to do that to Ginny. If she ever asked him, he'd have to tell the truth. After all, telling the truth couldn't hurt. It was his first time in a real, committing relationship where he actually tried to avoid temptation of other females. He didn't know why he was trying to focus only on Ginny when outside in the front of the bar there were a couple of locals who were interested in him. So why not take that chance? That chance that involved truthfulness and commitment. Maybe he'd sober up after, cut back on the drinking.

Despite the fading of his high, Draco let out a loud laugh as this thought appeared in his mind again. Blaise stirred and brought his hand to his forehead, groaning. He pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Fucker," he said hoarsely, looking over to Draco. Blaise blinked his bloodshot eyes a few times and stretched his arms. "Where the fuck are we?"

But Draco continued to laugh, even if the thought wasn't funny. He laughed, and laughed. It wasn't legitimate, but he didn't care. He threw his head back, feeling his muscles fall slack as he fell against the dirty wall of the dingy bathroom. Maybe he was laughing at himself, considering he was actually going to try to keep on a straight path to make Ginny Weasley his. He didn't know why he wanted her. She made him want to be sober, and she made him happy. He never knew a person could give the feelings of a drug, and even better.

**-x-x-**

**A/N: **Sorry that took so long, I was away. Plus, it's summer & i'm only 15. I can't help that I like to go out and get wasted. And I'm only home for a week before I leave for five weeks for the Philippines. So, if I get a lot of reviews I'll post the next chapter for you guys to hold it up. Read & **reviewreviewreview!** Thanks, bye.


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